Persecution Mania
by mrawgirl09
Summary: REWRITE! Persecution Mania is a mental sickness that makes a person think that they are the victims, even when it's the opposite. Songfic, featuring Roy,Fem!Ed,Jean&little of Riza. Title has nothing to do w/ content... I think. R&R plz!M to be safe.
1. Roy Mustang

**Epik High Persecution mania Pt 3**

Persecution mania

This… is what I think about when I read FMA gory-angsty fanfics.

The many guilt within the FMA crew, featuring Roy Mustang, Edward Elric (as a woman), Jean Havoc, and Alphonse Elric.

Since this song is HipHop with rap, there's not much to talk about… I tried to put something in between them… didn't really work much. The italics on their own are the lyrics, the italics in the passage are like double thoughts… you can think of whoever could be talking there. It's just random crap.

I try another songfic… I love this band, and I love their music. Sadly, it's not mine, as well as FMA, but I'm happy enough just being their fan.

As for the ages… Ehhh since Mustang was like 29 when Ed was 15… so… about 7 years later is… Mustang: 37 Ed: 23 Al: 22 … dunno Jean's…. let's say he's 35.

EDIT:: I'm re-writing this, adding more stuff and rearranging things so that they fit better… and I'll be posting them separately in multiple chapters. It's rap, it has LOTS of words. Soooo probably about 5 chapters? 4? Dunno. Meh.

Since I don't have it already written, this would take way more than just 5 days to complete.

* * *

**Roy Mustang**

* * *

Roy Mustang, age 37, walked down the street, once again very drunk, with still a bottle of whiskey in his hands. He took another swig of the bottle, too drunk to care about the burning sensation down his throat. He bit back his tears as he reached the door handle.

Riza was on the couch, asleep, probably tired from waiting for him to come home. He reached for her, her blond hair. Riza's hair shined silver-ish by the moonlight, and as Roy felt his fingers through the silky strands, his thoughts drifted to another blonde, a blonde whose hair glowed gold in lights… Edward.

Edward…

* * *

_I'm walking right now shaking so much; I shouldn't have _

_Thrown you out you who said didn't have a reason to live without me_

_I threw you out and went straight to her arms_

* * *

Leaving the half-empty whisky bottle on the table, Roy attempted to pick Riza up from the black leather sofa to their room. After a few failed tries, Roy gave up picking Riza up, and left his black coat on her slumbering figure.

Staggering, Roy managed to crawl up the stairs to their room, peeling off his clothes one by one as he went. He collapsed onto the bed, sighing deeply.

Touching Riza's hair was a mistake… it reminded him so much of the long golden locks of… Edward… How he missed her. How he regretted the day…

The day he broke up-no, dumped Edward Elric.

She did not take it well.

* * *

_I shouldn't have turned away you who collapsed from crying_

* * *

The tears, the pleas. How he ignored everything. Why had he done that?

_For Riza_.

That's right. Everything he did then was for Riza. He wanted them to be together ever since he met her dead eyes in the Ishval massacre. Everyone around him said that the two looked good together. He had been secretly spending more and more nights with Edward when Riza asked him out one day. He accepted right away, of course. It was what he wanted all along. … and he managed to balance the two women throughout two years, both women having keys to his house and his room, yet never having the opportunity of meeting, due to his careful planning… until he found himself buying an engagement ring for Riza. … and flowers for Edward.

He just then realized that it wouldn't work out. It was an easy choice then, he originally wanted Riza… between a lover… and a _lover_… it was obvious that he would …should choose _the lover_, the one who he wanted to be with forever… he had thought Riza was the one. So Edward had to go.

The first month was great, of course… the honeymoon went by so quickly… and so did 10 months. Not once did he hear from Edward. Edward with her golden falling locks… her matching, alluring golden eyes… her soft, soft lips… her sun-kissed arms, face… and the shy, white… her most secret parts… her beautiful body, soaked in blood. She was so beautiful, lying on this very bed, her slowing heart visible for him to see, her eyes tainted red with lust, moaning with pain and pleasure… her womb cut to pieces with the last drops of blood oozing lazily through the damaged arteries and veins, flowing down her curves… down to her feet, where the edge of the butcher knife, shining red, could be seen… the handle, also soaked in blood, held in those shaking hands… _his_ shaking hands.

When Roy Mustang opened his eyes, he found himself staring into the dark ceiling. He moved his head to the right… and saw Riza, tucked in bed with her back facing him. He sighed. _Another Nightmare._ Roy got up, his bare feet touching the wooden floor with a chill. The clock on the desk was pointing 2:20. Just in time for his early breakfast.

Just being the Fuhrer didn't mean he could skip most of the days. Just as he'd done years ago, he had even more massive a pile of paperwork to do each day, and he'd have to spend many a sleepless nights just to finish the urgent ones. He and Riza both had gotten used to waking and sleeping in ungodly hours, although it didn't do their health any good.

* * *

_You who made me breakfast everyday You who I just let go anyway_

_I knew it was wrong-the image where you stepped over the railings raid my dreams_

_Another nightmare, a cup of water_

* * *

He slid his body away from the warmth of the bed after planting a soft kiss on Riza's forehead and dragged himself out of the room into the cold house. The routine was dreadfully familiar... there was nothing changed with Riza from what he had with Edward… only less. He'd woken up at the exact same bed in the same position, only more intimate, pressed his lips to her forehead, only more loving, slid himself out of the bed, only more reluctant, got down to the kitchen and found freshly made breakfast, only more made to his taste, ate and went to work.

He moved towards the kitchen and found the light already lit. _Perhaps Riza forgot to turn it off last night,_ thought Roy. It was unlikely, since he made sure he'd turned off every light before he went up, and Riza would not turn on the kitchen light just to come up and sleep. Silently grabbing a pair of spare gloves from the discarded yesterday's coat, he crept towards the kitchen, fingers at the ready.

The soft smell of freshly-made toast and egg and bacon filled Roy's stomach with ice-cold dread. It couldn't be…

He ran into the kitchen, eyes wide, calling the person he wanted for so long, for so much. Edward.

There was no one except for the bacon and egg still steaming, the coffee freshly poured, and the small letter sitting next to the plate of two toasts.

* * *

_Another breakfast … I suffocate._

* * *

Edward.

* * *

_Would the breathing stop? Would the heart turn cold?_

_Would she watch me from somewhere? Would she still hate me?_

_Would the breathing stop? Would the heart turn cold?_

_Would she watch me from somewhere? Would she still follow me?_

* * *

When he finished reading the letter, he threw on the black coat, slammed open the door, and ran into the still dark alley in search for the black cathedral in the middle of Central. He ignored the drizzling rain, the cold road underneath his shoe-less feet and the cries of his confused wife, calling him to come back. His mind was already in front of the cathedral, with the love of his life, back at the place where he first confessed–no snagged Edward Elric off her feet and straight to his room.

Finally. He felt tears stinging the corners of his eyes. After almost a whole year, he could see his love again.

His world soon came crashing down.

* * *

AN: Eh. Mustang's a bit too much of a womaniser here. I likes it this way. B3 Shame on him to actually believe he's really going to meet Ed just like that.

Anyways. Tell me what you think. I'm going to continue no matter what you say, but I'd still like to hear what you have to say about this fic. Cha! :D

mrawgirl09


	2. Edward Elric

Hmm.. I guess no one really likes femEd these days... Oh well. I like it. So I'm keeping it up.

I no own so no sue I.

Here's part Edward Elric.

... Maybe I should have changed his... her name. ... oh well. Too late.

**

* * *

**

Edward Elric

* * *

Where had the things gone wrong? From the beginning, it seemed.

Edward Elric, age 23, was shaking; the Full Metal Alchemist was scared. Alone in the dark cathedral, alone with her son. This would be the end of her life.

She finished doing her prayers, to the statue of 'god'. She didn't believe in it, oh no. She only needed something to focus on for meditation. And something to put hope in. For her love, for her child. She wasn't praying to any 'god' at all, anyways. Not after seeing what was in store in 'afterlife'. In stead, she was praying to herself, Alphonse, her mother and perhaps her bastard father if he was interested any, to give her the courage to go through the procedure and if they couldn't protect her, then to protect her child.

She shouldn't have believed that bastard, the Amestris' womanizer. Oh how her life had twisted ever since he laid his eyes on her two-limbless form. She couldn't have a normal childhood… she couldn't even have a normal adulthood.

She became a soldier to return his brother his body, a lapdog for the military's use. Then she became Mustang's personal bitch, in both implications. How foolish she actually believed in that fucker. She trusted him with her life, her career, and her virginity; her everything. And all that's led her was betrayal.

The bastard had another woman. And not just a random girl. Riza Hawkeye. Ed was just a toy for him to play with for a short while, a body _he_ could relieve himself in while his heart was chasing his true love. It was so unfair that it was she who had to step down, she who'd been risking her life, her career and her only chance at getting hers and Al's body back, for the woman who didn't even love him. Yes, Hawkeye didn't love Mustang. Mustang didn't love Hawkeye. Edward was dumped, after loving Mustang with all of what's left of her, sacrificing everything she had just to be with her lover… and he betrayed her trust. He betrayed her love.

Just how did it come to this?

It was ironic, really. She thought people who suicide at the age of 30 idiots, only because she thought they still had another chance at the world, at living, and yet they were giving up so easily. How could she have known she'd be joining the dead at the younger age of 23?

_

* * *

_

Some curious couple some pitch black night winds up in speeding

_The lustful night swallowed the two and the umbilical noose tightens her throat_

* * *

The day she turned 16, the bastard had his way with her. The day she became a legal adult was the day she became a legal prey for the womanizing bastard. How foolish was she to think that the bastard had other thoughts than just nightly fucks? How stupid was she to cook for the jerk every early morning, yawning with the lack of sleep only to be ignored later on? How ignorant was she, silently praying to the god she didn't believe in just for the safety of her lover, who was fucking another woman every time she went on a mission? How fucking naïve was she, believing in all in the simple kiss which he'd give only occasionally, when he was giving _Riza_ the engagement ring?

She thought he loved her. She loved him so much, and he'd love back. He'd smile that smile, he'd say those words, he'd caress her so gently as if he treasured her every particle…

She looked at the baby. The white little thing… no father, and soon no mother… and already with no life. Edward wiped the tears starting to well again. Today was its first day on earth, and it had already been dead. Why, she didn't know. It was born that way.

She didn't have any strength left in her to live anymore. She didn't even have the strength to apologize to her son anymore. After all the things she'd gone through, she had persevered with goals clear in her mind. First, mother. Then, Alphonse. Then, Roy. And then when he'd dumped her right after their last fuck, her child, whom she was going to introduce during their cession of cuddling. Now she had nothing. Mother was dead. Father was dead, to her anyways. Alphonse became independent of her ever since he got his body back, and Roy… well, he would be living with her wife now, pretending to be the happiest man on earth. Without her.

Edward's first child, her last reminder of _him_… was gone. Without even taking a glance at the miserable world it was born in… it was gone. The tears were flowing freely, she just noticed, and she let them flow, watching with small interest as they dripped on the newborn's face, trickling down as if it were crying, weeping for her.

She'd made the final decision.

* * *

_The worst happens as the man leaves her the woman considers the child and leaves it in the church- however_

_She can't even take one step - Oh-god - does the mother's child sob so sadly?_

_The guilt_

* * *

Edward had left a letter about her and her child on her last meal for _him_. To meet her and his son when the sun came up at where they first kissed. Now all she could hope for was that the image he'll see would be strong enough for it to last in his guilty conscience in his lifetime.

_

* * *

_

The woman nears her child closes her flesh and blood's mouth

_Skin looses its color with the tears falling in beads_

_The young rejected life and at last, she as well in pain stops her breath._

* * *

She gathered up her baby in her arms, her crimson trademark coat wrapped around it as if it would warm it up. Wiping the final tears of fear, regret, pain and finally … determination, she walked up the stairs of the giant cathedral, up, up, and up until she reached the roof. Stopping about a yard before the edge, she gathered up her wits, strengthening her will again. Only a moment later did she start running.

_

* * *

_

Would the breathing stop? Would the heart turn cold?

_Would she watch me from somewhere? Would she still hate me?_

_Would the breathing stop? Would the heart turn cold?_

_Would she watch me from somewhere? Would she still follow me?_

* * *

When Edward was falling, she straightened herself horizontally, hearing Mustang call for her. Perhaps it was an illusion, perhaps it was not. She'd die happily, at least, being able to see her love one last time before her death.

Her last thoughts were an apology to Alphonse, her brother who would have to live by himself from now. The ground was so close… she would feel the impact any millisecond now.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE – BANG.

* * *

AN: It's different, now. I've changed it from having so much complicated thought process at the same time to something more... story-like... form.

If anyone is reading this, please R&-Ah forget it. Don't wanna, don't hafta. If do, plz do. If flame, well... BIH.

mrawgirl09

Ps. Sorry about this. I'm really in a crappy mood today.. ;-;


	3. Jean Havoc

**;A;** I thank you very much to chris3169512, ;A; My first reviewer. TAT And with that, I update another chapter. This has more of a plot than a song. The chorus at the end is not supposed to be there, but I put it in anyways.

* * *

**Jean Havoc**

* * *

He couldn't believe it. Why? Why did it have to be him?

His very first accident.

The first ever since he learned to drive.

Why did it have to be in his thirties? It was still way too early in life to be living the rest of his with guilt. He wasn't thinking, he was just returning from the very late night drink with Breda… very drunk and apparently driving. His hands trembled from the handles, and his mind forewent the process of hanging over. Jean Havoc, age 35, lieutenant-colonel and a new murderer, had just witnessed a crime… or a coincidence, as his mind would proteset... committed with his own car.

* * *

_Under the street light red blood stains the eye the horrible stare, with limbs twisted apart_

* * *

It wasn't his fault, it wasn't his fault, his mind was whirring again and again, eyes refusing to see the red liquid that was starting to flow down the cracked glass of the car.

Why? WHY? WHY did Mustang have to jump in the street like that? Why did he have to be driving at full speed? Why did there be a flying woman right in front of his car?

* * *

The unknown corpse at the end of an empty street, I hold my breath hiding from God's eyes as she lie in the trunk

* * *

He was driving; he didn't do it on purpose… He was driving, to get to his house just in time to get a shower and a change of clothes to go to work. It was Mustang's fucking fault for running out on the road like that… it was not his fault for steering away from his boss, as an attempt to save the leader of this country… Only to run into another person, who seemed to be floating in the air when he did turn.

His eyes didn't catch much of who was there, trapped in the quickness of the motions taking place. Now all he could see through the red glasses and dented front cap was a foot, a boot. A booted foot, a black boot with a silver ring with red markings…

Oh god. Boss's boot.

He just killed his boss. His direct boss. His friend. His… his love. He couldn't believe his luck. Or the lack thereof. He heard someone shouting something… probably Edward's name. The name he'd learnt to love. Edward.

He first thought she was a he, just like everyone else. He also had the mouth-dropping session when Mustang had declared Edward as the youngest and the first female state alchemist ever to pass. He watched from afar how the small, temperamental brat grew to be a beautiful, gorgeous woman. He had seen the nigthly meetings between Boss and Mustang. He'd also been there when right after sending Edward on a mission, Roy would head straight to Riza. How others remained unaware of Mustang two-timing both his lovers, he didn't know. He'd been woken up by Boss when she'd been dumped, and had been with her during her sleepless, tearful nights thereafter.

* * *

Holding the handle I hold my head down because of the hidden crime. The fast gasps pollute my lungs.

* * *

He learnt to love her the way she was; it didn't matter to him that she had Mustang's child. Jean was going to intersect Edward, confess to her before she got to work. To say that he loved her… to say that he loved her more than Mustang ever would.

He got out of his car, trembling, hoping even after what he saw in the car, hoping that it wasn't the Boss. His eyes unconsciously trailed slowly towards each characteristics of the person, unintentionally checking every valid point for the person to be Edward Elric. Perhaps it was just another person with the same boots… some other blond with those boots… just another person with blond hair… black boots and black leather pants and- and golden irises… tainted red with blood.

_

* * *

_

Still drunk the road is pitch black, I bury the body in the marsh at the riverbank at the end of the road

* * *

He heard someone crying. Perhaps it was his. Perhaps Mustang's. It didn't matter. Edward was dead. She was dead staring in his eyes, reddened gold into his pale blue. Mustang was already at her side, glaring up daggers at him. It didn't register, however; nothing did except for the red-gold, blank eyes that proved that Edward Elric was no longer in this world.

_

* * *

_

I wake up then, and sigh with relief

_that it's only a nightmare during before going to work_

* * *

Havoc opened his eyes. A dream. Thank god. He was still in his dirty uniform from the day before, he still smelt like alcohol. He didn't kill Edward. It was all just a bad dream. He could still make it to the woman and confess to her, hold her tight, because he knew that if he let go, she would disappear on him again. He'd never been so afraid before.

Jean checked the time; 0800. Just in time for a normal day of work. Perfect. He was in his best set of uniforms already, including the hat he almost never wore. A bit crumpled up after sleeping in the car, but presentable nonetheless. It would take some time anyways, because he didn't recognize the place he had parked his car. He must have spent a long night driving; he didn't see any iconic big shops or buildings like he did on most mornings after a good drink.

Havoc dismissed the details like he did the dream, and started planning his own daydream for the ride back. Perhaps he should just pluck the girl out from the office and ask her out? Or maybe he would just blurt out his confession to the whole office, right after the morning meetings? It wouldn't be the most romantic one, but it would still be best if he hurried it, before Ed got any 'ideas' like she did in his dream, after being dumped … broken up so suddenly.

Perhaps a box of chocolate would be best if she didn't feel much better. She always did love chocolates. Smiling and wiping off the dry tears, he reached for the keys to start the car, accidentally dropping his immaculate military hat onto the floor with his car keys. When he leaned over to pick them up he noticed the black jacket and pants draped over the assistant's seat next to him.

He felt blood drain from his face, and started to whisper his mantra all over again: "Oh god no. Please no. It can't be. It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It wasn't…" He jumped out of the black car, and started searching all over the front wheels, searching for any indication that his guess was right, for confirmation… and at the same time dreading the already too clear of an answer in his head. Then he found it, the red stain, under the car, in front of the left wheel, constantly whispering iron scent of blood.

_

* * *

_

But it's kind of funny how I ignore it as a dream but why do I feel that weight as the car moves?

* * *

Jean mentally bashed himself to an invisible wall for being so… selfish? Idiotic? Immature? None of the words he knew seemed to be enough to describe his foolishness. How could he forget? How dare he wave it off? It wasn't a dream. It was never a dream.

"Edward…" Blinking back stray tears, Jean threw the fallen hat to the backseat, started the car, and began driving towards Risembool Cemetery.

_

* * *

_

Would the breathing stop? Would the heart turn cold?

_Would she watch me from somewhere? Would she still hate me?_

_Would the breathing stop? Would the heart turn cold?_

_Would she watch me from somewhere? Would she still follow me?_

* * *

The military funeral with the empty casket was yesterday. He had to attend… not only as Mustangs' (Jean passively remembered how Ed always cringed at whenever he said Mustang's') driver but also as one of Edward's closest colleague. Today… was the real funeral. With the people of Amestris as they would mourn the death, not of the Fullmetal Alchemist, the alchemist of the people, but of Edward Elric, a friend, a family, a mother.

Of course. It wasn't like he could erase the tinge of blood out of the tiny spaces in his car that easily.

The tears started flowing again.

* * *

AN: Poor Havoc. But I like the idea of a tearful Jean.

mrawgirl09


	4. Alphonse Elric

**

* * *

**

Alphonse Elric

* * *

Alphonse Elric, aged 22, stared at the coffin where his sister's face would be. He forced his legs to move as he advanced towards the tomb with the box. The small coffin where the little child, Ed's child, laid dead. Alphonse had a hard time believing that she would have killed her son as she died. Edward wasn't such person; she would have forced herself to live, if just for the child. Alphonse mentally shook his head. Edward _wouldn't_ do that. Al handed over the tiny coffin. None of the hospitals in central had a record on an Elric. None in the pregnancy section, anyways. Havoc had told Al that she didn't leave Central the whole year… so it was probably born at her apartment. Alphonse frowned. She wouldn't have known what to do if it was born… un-breathing. She would have cradled it, trying to blow in air through the blocked trachea in an attempt to resuscitate the poor soul… and not succeed.

Alphonse shook his head as he returned to his place between Winry and Havoc. It wasn't the time to make weird assumptions. He had to concentrate on seeing through the funeral.

* * *

_Yes I'm tired, the nightmare bit, ripped and tore me apart_

* * *

The real funeral was done simply, just as what Ed would have wanted. Roy and Riza were at the back, while Jean was just … standing there. Alphonse's eyes watered again. There, there was the man who killed his only sister, his only _family_, and he couldn't do anything. He knew about how Ed was to Jean, everybody did, except for Roy and Ed. He had hoped Ed would get over Roy and see the man right in front of her, the one who loved her and who Alphonse could trust that they would love Edward forever. Yet she hadn't, she'd refuse all help for almost a year, closing herself off from the whole world except for Jean. Back then Alphonse thought it was for the better, that she would then see just how much more Jean loved her than Roy.

Jean was a mess. His clothes were spotless, not even crumpled; yet everyone who was able to get within 7 feet of him could see that he was already broken in the inside. His pale blue eyes lost their hue, becoming a dark, dull blue that reminded Al of a bruise. Jean's hands were shaking, fists clenched tight as he tried to contain himself of his tears. Alphonse heard him whisper, voice strained with pain:

"How … how could you do this to me … ? Edward … Why… How…"

How. Alphonse clenched his eyes, forcing back new tears. She was found shattered in front of a church he and Edward would visit from time to time, only for her sister to display her skepticism towards religion. He knew, still, that she secretly was praying for her and Roy's happiness. Edward's coffin was being laid down in her soon-to-be-tomb.

He used to think that it was cute that she would reject god openly and pray in the shadows, but now… now her rejection of god passed down to Alphonse. And Winry. Al looked to his side. Winry was also sobbing, and her tears were falling freely onto her clothes, tears staining black into an even darker color.

Jean broke down. He fell into a crying heap, sobbing uncontrollably and clutching the grass in an effort not to run into the hole to his love. And all Alphonse could do was to put a hand on Jean's quivering shoulders, in an attempt to comfort the broken man.

* * *

_Next to the mirror in the big portrait the mother's smile is in my tears_

* * *

The nightmare was starting again, the screams that filled Alphonse's dreams in his sleep and his mind during his wake. The rotten smell started to rise up again as he bundled up on his pillow. He hated these dreams. The guilt, the sorrow; all of them were brought alive when Alphonse sought relief from sleep. He could see the mangled body of his… and Edward's mother, breathing tiredly as the remaining energy drained away from the bloody pulp. He could see his sister's shattered limbs, strewn this way and that around her body, all except for one limb that was holding tightly onto a little bloody bundle.

"Edward…"

* * *

_Swallowing up the rotten meat underneath my bed, _

_the second hand on the wall beats my heart_

* * *

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

Alphonse jerked his head sideways and saw the hands of the grandfather clock showed that it was 2.34. Next to the clock was a window. A large window as big as the one in their old home where he and Edward used to love as children, to look out during a storm and listen quietly to the sounds of the rain pattering on the glass. Al sighed. He wasn't about to get any more sleep if he was constantly reminded of his sister and mother. He got up and moved towards the window.

"Edward…"

His voice sounded like it had been all those years ago. Hollow.

* * *

_(In the space) The darkness catches even the moon light in the mirror he strangles his mother_

* * *

He first saw the tree where their house was supposed to be. Mother. Where mother's… second body was buried. He moved on to the left, to the other side of the house. He wanted to see his sister again. Alphonse scrunched his eyes; time just didn't go fast enough for him.

* * *

_Next to the mirror in the big window the rain's tears are in my smile_

* * *

Alphonse didn't sleep in the bed anymore. It was just too painful for him, when his demons caught up with him. He staggered towards a window, the one that was supposed to be looking towards where sister was… where sister was _now_.

* * *

_Under my bed my mother grips my clothes with one bony hand-I wake up again_

* * *

Rainy nights were one of those nights when Alphonse Elric could not bring himself to relax.

* * *

_Cleanse my blood Forget my crimes_

Alphonse decided that he wanted to talk with sister. And perhaps a little with mother. He straightened his appearance, strode to the door, grabbed an umbrella and walked out the door purposefully. Ed wouldn't forgive him if she knew how lifeless he became. Not that she would not see through the cover. Al chuckled. He was in for some rant-lecture.

_Cleanse my blood Forget my crimes_

* * *

_Cleanse my blood Forget my crimes_

As Alphonse approached the cemetery he could make out two figures already present, both without umbrella. Roy and Jean. They didn't seem to be acknowledging each other. Alphonse sighed. He made his way through to the three people. _Two,_ reminded the little part of his mind to which he didn't listen anymore.

_Cleanse my blood Forget my crimes_

* * *

_Cleanse my blood Forget my crimes_

None of them spoke, each submerged in their own thoughts. Alphonse absentmindedly saluted the fuhrer, although Mustang did not reply. Roy did not usually come, but on rainy days, he would drive at full speed from Central to here, as if he was hypnotised. Jean had not moved from his usual spot in front of the grave, staring blankly at the name carved in the rock. Alphonse almost smiled; he knew he could trust Havoc to stay right next to his sister, to help her get through, even after her death. A lightning broke down the somewhat peaceful atmosphere. Alphonse couldn't help himself but say the word again.

"Edward."

_Cleanse my blood Forget my crimes_

* * *

_Cleanse my blood Forget my crimes_

_Cleanse my blood Forget my crimes_

* * *

_Would the breathing stop? Would the heart turn cold?_

_Would she watch me from somewhere? Would she still hate me?_

_Would the breathing stop? Would the heart turn cold?_

_Would she watch me from somewhere? Would she still follow me?_

* * *

The three men stood by the grave of Edward Elric, each mourning their own loss in their mind, staring into the upside-down person with wings that was engraved underneath her name. Most people would assume it as a fallen angel, but the three men would know, though they only kept to themselves, that it was the image of Icarus, the arrogant human who got too close to the sun and paid the price with his life.

Another lightning struck.

* * *

_Would the breathing stop? Would the heart turn cold?_

_Would she watch me from somewhere? Would she still hate me?_

_Would the breathing stop? Would the heart turn cold?_

_Would she watch me from somewhere? Would she still follow me?_

_

* * *

_

AN: Finally, it's done. But I'm not all that happy with this chapter... :C I ran out of ideas from Jean's Chapter... I somehow managed to finish this, eheheh...

For everyone who's read this or faved or alerted, THANK YOU VERY mUCH!!! XD

mrawgirl09

EDIT: I only noticed that I left one of the words in Korean. D: Sorry. Fixed.


End file.
